Silly me ordered this even though I don’t enjoy a lot of honey-forward teas. And I’m not the biggest fan of dancong oolong. And when smelling the leaf every month trying to decide if I was in the mood, I was always left with this overwhelmingly rich and roasty honey impression that never coaxed my desires.

A stupid sense of longing arose within me today, that softie romanticism that could not be fulfilled. I again sniffed the leaves in their jar, maybe for the twentieth time. I reached for my saxophone, began to play. Another sniff of the leaf and this time, without hesitation, I measured 8 grams into my clay gaiwan. My cat, asleep on the bed, raised her head and gave me a leering glance. She’d had enough of my poor pressure control and the resulting off-key vibrations. She bellowed a deep and dissatisfied howl, stating her perturbance with my dissonant disturbance. She sauntered to the living room and sat on the chaise like the princess she is with her back turned to my door. Can I blame her? I’m going through spooning withdrawals, sorry.

I was weak and tired today and in my weariness, I committed a few follies at my tea table. Mistakes? No. Learning the boundaries of the leaf. One boundary is not letting a long hand brew the leaf. What was supposed to be five seconds for the first steep got away from me and turned into twenty. And while it was fine, I continued with forgetful infusions which did not do the brew any favors. The other limitation of this tea is that it’s green under the roast, as became clear by the third steep. Water right off the boil really brings out a full-mouthed drying quality. Not a sharp astringency, but when combined with seasonally low October humidity and a sunken sob playing her instrument, well, it was time to put away the brass. My cat is still snubbing me.

Other than that, this tea is not remarkable but it is comforting and pleasant, more than I wanted to give the dry leaf credit for. It’s like nourishing nectar coursing through my veins, at least that’s the way it made me feel. More floral and light than the dragging heaviness and soggy, sickly sweetness I usually experience from dancong. Besides the way the tea flows through my body and mind, its strength lies in the finish and aftertaste with the softest fuzzy white peach mixed with lychee. Yes.

Next time I will brew it with lower temperature before deciding if the leaf is as finicky as my cat’s preference for her water source — the bathtub faucet at a specific flow rate. Princess.

Edited to add a song pairing: Zero 7 — Somersault

Flavors: Almond, Bitter, Brown Sugar, Cherry, Drying, Floral, Grain, Honey, Lychee, Mineral, Nectar, Peach, Roasted Barley, Sugar, Sweet, Wood

205 °F / 96 °C 8 g 3 OZ / 100 ML
Mastress Alita

They are all princesses, and we are their lowly chambermaids.


I do that all the time too but with jasmine, rose and a few other flavors, I don’t particularly enjoy. >.<

Login or sign up to leave a comment.


Mastress Alita

They are all princesses, and we are their lowly chambermaids.


I do that all the time too but with jasmine, rose and a few other flavors, I don’t particularly enjoy. >.<

Login or sign up to leave a comment.



Eventual tea farmer. If you are a tea grower, want to grow your own plants or are simply curious, please follow me so we can chat.

I most enjoy loose-leaf, unflavored teas and tisanes. Teabags have their place. Some of my favorite teas have a profound effect on mind and body rather than having a specific flavor profile. Terpene fiend.

Favorite teas generally come from China (all provinces), Taiwan, India (Nilgiri and Manipur). Frequently enjoyed though less sipped are teas from Georgia, Japan, Nepal and Darjeeling. While I’m not actively on the hunt, a goal of mine is to try tea from every country that makes it available to the North American market. This is to gain a vague understanding of how Camellia sinensis performs in different climates. I realize that borders are arbitrary and some countries are huge with many climates and tea-growing regions.

I’m convinced European countries make the best herbal teas.

Personal Rating Scale:

100-90: A tea I can lose myself into. Something about it makes me slow down and appreciate not only the tea but all of life or a moment in time. If it’s a bagged or herbal tea, it’s of standout quality in comparison to similar items.

89-80: Fits my profile well enough to buy again.

79-70: Not a preferred tea. I might buy more or try a different harvest. Would gladly have a cup if offered.

69-60: Not necessarily a bad tea but one that I won’t buy again. Would have a cup if offered.

59-1: Lacking several elements, strangely clunky, possess off flavors/aroma/texture or something about it makes me not want to finish.

Unrated: Haven’t made up my mind or some other reason. If it’s pu’er, I likely think it needs more age.

bicycle bicycle bicycle


California, USA

Following These People

Moderator Tools

Mark as Spammer